Stavanger Bay All that glitters

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Ragnar felt Thistle’s physical absence like a swell of ice cold sea water rushing in though the morning was certainly anything but cold. It was warm, but he was as aware of their fights physically as he was mentally. He did not try to stop her from pulling away from him, though, and so dealt with it knowing that she was keeping her touch from him because he had not returned it; he hadn’t wanted to allow her to distract him from what they really needed to do: talk about it. Granted, talking about it brought with it the chance that it might burst into yet another fight but if they only ignored it, it would only serve to manifest and hit worse than last time. Her words of loving him, that she loved his flaws as well as who he was brought with it some relief because, that too, had been a consideration. That maybe she had fallen out of love with him. It wasn’t as if, should that ever happen, he could blame her for it. In Nerian’s terminology angels weren’t meant to fall in love with demons. The thought of his Priestess’ religion surprised him but he realized that he had no better comparison to make, not even from his own religion. Thistle spoke, explaining all that bothered her in full detail, which though her monologue was long Ragnar felt that it gave him a much clearer insight on what was going on inside her head. "You are desirable. You are always beautiful to me," Ragnar interrupted in a fierce whisper, not liking that she had ever thought of herself as undesirable. He wasn’t saying the words to be romantic, simply, he spoke them because they were his truth. He inhaled deeply and let it out when Pump’s death came about. It wasn’t something Ragnar could easily forget. Though he hadn’t admitted it, he had never actually mourned her. He had been sad she had been taken from them, of course, but death was not a bad thing in his culture and he couldn’t change how he had been raised to think since before he could even comprehend his parents’ words. It had, no doubt, been untimely but she was not the first to be taken too soon by the Gods and she would not be the last. "I’m not going to change, Thistle. My culture is in my DNA, my religion is my lifeblood. Without them…" He would be a stranger to himself. "— Odinn led me here so I could do what I am doing here. So I could recreate the Cove, and teach others about my culture and religion. He chose me because he knew I could do it without losing myself along the way." It wasn’t as if Odinn had ever came out and told Ragnar that but the All-Father didn’t have too. It was what Ragnar believed he knew deep to his bones. Ragnar was silent for a prolonged moment letting her words settle within the catacombs of his brain, his gaze of Caribbean ice settled upon the horizon. "My love for you has not changed," Ragnar spoke breaking his own silence. "I am just tired of fighting with you." He understood that couples quarreled, but he did not want to keep doing it with the consistency that they had been going on.